The Doctor and The Notebook
by Silver Tulip
Summary: The 9th Doctor has just left Rose on her street from when they first met. For her he was only gone a few seconds but for him it was much longer than that. Before he could take this blond store girl with him he had to save another girl before she threw the world in to chaos with only a notebook and some visions of the past and future.


"Clem, are you even listening?"

I glance up for a moment at my friend, Kim, a pretty brunette. She may not be the brightest bulb in the box but I sure wouldn't mind looking like her, not that it would matter much since I'm single and have no intentions of changing that.

"Yeah, you were talking about Jack, right?" I sigh and erase a mistaken line on my drawing.

It's funny how it can be that easy in life, just erase the mistake and move on, right? No harm done. I always thought life was simple and care-free until my father died. I was only a child, 5 to be exact, and I had just arrived home after a sleepover with an old friend of mine.

"No, no, no! I was talking about Greg! I saw that cheating jerk hanging around with this red-haired chick! Can you believe that?!" Kim exclaims in anger.

"Yeah, hard to imagine he would hang out with his sister." I retort and continue shading in my sketch.

"Something wrong? You're not usually so blunt." Her voice lowers. "Are you having…the visions again?"

Her deep blue eyes stare in to my hazel ones, worry running across her dark face. Even if I wanted to I couldn't lie to her, she's the only person I can be honest with. I guess she's as close to a sister as anyone I've ever known.

"Yes, they're becoming more frequent and more realistic. I can almost see the man who owns the blue box. Just a few more days and…" I'm cut off by her hand being placed on mine.

"You've got to stop with this, Clem; it'll drive you mad at this rate. Look, this could all just be a made up image of your imagination, like a child imagines a monster in their closet. It's not impossible with everything you went through in that small town of yours." Her small hand squeezed mine, trying to convince me.

"That's the thing. Look, I know this sounds crazy but that night when I saw my dad die I think he was there. I think my mind is trying to remember the killer who murdered my dad and even though it's farfetched I think I know what happened that night but my mind is suppressing it because it was so traumatizing."

"Clem, listen to me, you're my best friend. I know that you're a writer and an amazing artist but that doesn't mean you're a detective like the characters you make up! This whole world is dangerous and like it or not you can't just re-write a chapter until you get it right. You only have one moment to react to things and whatever decision you make you can't go back and fix it, no matter how much you want to. Even if he is the killer and you do get your memories of that night back what would you do then?"

I pull my hand out from under hers, a scowl showing clearly on my face. She responds with a sigh of regret.

"Look, I'm sorry, I'm just starting to get worried about you…you've been acting strange lately. I can't lose anyone else because they're being hauled off to an insane asylum."

I look down at her left wrist. She's rubbing her Silver Star charm that her mom bought her when she was about 14. She always did love the stars but not as much as she loved her mom.

"You miss her, huh?"

"It was 2 years ago today they took her strapped her up and took her away. This was the last thing she well, you know, the day before they took her she gave it to me…" She looks down at her bracelet, sorrow and pain filling her eyes. "I guess I can understand why you care about these visions so much. Just promise me, if you do find him and he did kill your dad, that you won't do anything stupid."

"I promise, I'm not you."

"Shut up!" She laughs and goes to push me.

Her elbow catches the coffee that she just ordered and it tips over, spilling on my notebook and my lap.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, Clem! Here, I'll go get a napkin!" She says while jumping up, only to be grabbed by my hand.

"N-No! I just need to…get out of here…" I say, the coffee seeming to be burning holes in my pants because of the temperature.

I scramble my notebook and loose papers together in a ball of disorganized words and pictures which proves difficult to see where I am going. I manage to escape the commotion Kim's spill caused and begin running for my apartment building across the street. I know it was childish to run out like that but I couldn't let my pictures get ruined and napkins would only damage them more, although I do wish I had grabbed something for my burned lap. As I arrive on the bottom floor I jam my keys into the lock and run inside my home. The wooden door slams behind me, causing me to look back and crash in to my brown couch. My tornado of papers zooms around in the room, causing my head to start spinning. 'A migraine, great, just what I need!' I think and walk to the bathroom, not in the mood for all this crap. The bathroom is in decent shape compared to the rest of the place but it's still pretty sad and creepy. As much as I hate to say it the place looks like a murder scene waiting to happen. I pull out some pills and down them along with a handful of water from the sink. I can't help but be reminded that I need to clean this place up from the rust surrounding the drain. My eyes look at the mirror, only to find it's not me who's staring back, well not the me at this age anyway. A smaller me, before I grew out my hair and before it turned dirty blond.

"Why, why did you run? I miss my daddy. You let him die. Why did you let my daddy die?" She says, her deep brown eyes staring in to mine.

"I-I didn't mean to! I don't remember anything except for what the police told me, I'm sorry I just don't know why I ran out."

"I miss my daddy so much, why?! Why did you kill him?!" She screams at me with hot tears of anger streaming down her rosy cheeks.

I reach my hand out to wipe away her tears but she grabs me and all I see is black. Pain and fear run through my body, causing my eyes to burst open. I'm set up in a chair in a living room with boxes in it; I guess the family who lives here must be moving soon by the looks of things. Nothing but a small television is in the room, a television I would recognize anywhere, my father's television. We use to watch it all the time together and he promised one day he was going to get me one of my own when I was all grown up. These boxes shouldn't be here though, he was only packed up like this the night…he died. A large crash causes a shiver of fear to go down my spinal column. I can't watch this again so I close my eyes, wishing the screams of agony and the sound of struggle would just come to an end. I can't move no matter how much I struggle so I try screaming to drown out the noise but I stay silent. It is as if I am purposely being tortured. The noise stops but I hear a screech, the sound of a little girl who just saw her father being murdered. I wish I could just stop all of this pain and go home.


End file.
